Reviews

As historically inaccurate as it may be according to others, this is a fantastic film. I'll support this kind of movie-even twice-before any of the "Quantums" or other big-bang noisemakers. It is a fantastic film primarily because of the performances and the music. Period. I think the screenwriter and director realized that and got out of the way as much as possible. Characterizations of historical figures is rarely done this well, especially when there is singing and performing on musical instruments involved. First, there is Gabrielle Union as Geneva. I've never seen any of her work that I am aware of and she does not disappoint in any scene here. Columbus Short...same for his work. He carries the chip that must have been on Little Walter's shoulder as if it were his own. Cedric the Entertainer always surprises me with some small characteristic that pops out of the screen and grabs me. Emaunuelle Chriqui...same for her work. I hope to see her in more extensive film roles. I heard an interview with Mos Def who said he wished there had been more of his Chuck Berry "duck walk" used in the movie. I have to agree because Mos was great here. I have to agree with other comments here that not only did Beyonce redeem herself here from Dreamgirls, she simply blew the role of Etta James right out of the water. If you watch her sing near the end of the movie and don't feel her ripping right into your soul, you'd better grab a defibrillator. If she doesn't receive an Oscar nomination at least, I will be disappointed. Adrian Brody is outstanding as Len Chess. He provides the fixed sun around which his musical stars gravitate. Finally, there is Jeffrey Wright and Eamonn Walker. Wright is always impressive in many ways; no less here as Muddy Waters, the catalyst for the major upheaval in musical style and expression that has been emulated, but never surpassed, ever since. Wright's performance is as nuanced and subtle as Short's is over the top. I hope this performance is recognized in major ways. And I thought Heath Ledger was a shoo-in for Best Supporting Actor Oscar until I saw Eamonn Walker's Howlin' Wolf. Like many of the actors I mentioned above, I have never seen Walker's work. His 'Wolf' didn't just Howl, it screamed off the screen in every facial expression and body movement. Man, he was good!

My wife and I were flying and this was the in-cabin movie. She plugged in her headset and I watched with no sound because I did not expect much. It was like watching silent Buster Keaton. We both laughed ourselves to tears. Others around us caught on as well. And while 'Holiday' may not win any awards, it sure is a refreshing departure from the gratuitous explosions and profane dialogue that are not needed, in my opinion, to convey a good story line. Even the scenes of Clay's movie premiere need no sound to convey his vanity and self-absorption. Mr. Bean's Holiday is going in our collection this Christmas!

I have not seen the movie. I have never seen South Park. A few of my colleagues are crazy about the TV series and now cannot say enough about the movie. All I have seen are the trailers of the movie, and it looks as though all of the figures (national and international leaders, actors, etc.) are puppets. If the movie is to be considered an allegory about our current human existence, can anyone tell me if the movie identifies or alludes to the identity of the puppeteers? Is their identity somewhere in the history of SP? My colleagues cannot give any clarification. So I thought I would try this route for any enlightenment on the question. Thanks for your thoughts and comments on the subject.

This is a Holocaust film, among other things. In my humble opinion, the movie is about what happens to love, passion and life when oppression is permitted to take control of lives. The one metaphor, and the primary one, that strikes me most deeply is the use of music as a bridge. A bridge in that the Szpilman's hid their money in the father's violin. A bridge in that Wladyslaw met the woman (another musician) who would later help him, despite her marriage to someone else, during a music broadcast over Polish radio. A bridge in that many of those who were in the ghetto with Szpilman, as well as those outside who could help, did so because of his reputation as a musician. A bridge in that the only thing that kept Szpilman from insanity and perhaps death during critical times during his hiding was the music he kept in his head. Perhaps most importantly, and certainly most poignantly, a bridge in that music was the only connection between Szpilman and the German officer who discovered him, and likewise perhaps the German officer's only connection, other than the photograph of his family, to what remained of his humanity. Just the look on his face as Szpilman played spoke volumes in shock, sorrow, apology, sympathy and maybe regret. Finally, music (the arts) as a bridge to an enduring place beyond repression, beyond death, inhumanity, loss and tragedy.

White Oleander. I have not read the book. But forget the characters. Forget the actors. Forget Hollywood. Forget the director, the book, the screenplay. At its foundation, this movie describes a system of childcare that is as dysfunctional as it is detrimental to the fragile lives entrusted to it. A system that informs potential "parents", through the responsibilities of its caseworkers, to "let us know if you have any problems" with the child, with little or no encouragement to the child to do the same. A system that frequently makes the child the scapegoat for its (the system's) inadequacies. A system that often utilizes painfully dysfunctional "adults" - grasping at any hope to hang on to their lives - as mentors, parents, role models. A system, and the people in it, often no more useful to outside observers than as something to be studied and reported for a college thesis or as a fodder for political campaigns.

The correctional system is one of the many revolving doors through which pass millions of these individuals - male and female. The situation in which they find themselves is more often than not generational; much like an invisible family heirloom passed down from parent to child to child to child and on and on. The faces and their many colors may be different from those in this movie, but their stories, their lives, their losses, and the results of their involvement are merely variations on the same theme. They are symptoms of a much larger, more malignant disease.

This response may sound very bleak and morose. We are after all talking about "just a movie." But White Oleander is an exceptional work that reflects millions of exceptional people. Ideals get shattered; dreams turn to nightmares; and people either learn, grow and escape or get consumed with a concurrent loss of their soul. If the characters in the movie are not ones to be emulated, certainly they are to be considered guideposts to alternative routes. Antithetical tickmarks of what to do to change such a system. As Alison Lohman's character, Astrid, says to her mother in their final moments together behind the fence, in response to her mother's shock at Astrid's appearance, "This is the price you pay for your actions." In many respects, this is a very political movie.

With this confluence of factors, it takes little suspension of belief to see that this instance of "art", stripped of the Hollywood glitz and glitter, is a fairly realistic and accurate description of "life." Kudos to the author, the screenwriter and director, and to the actors for their portrayals of the millions of anonymous faces involved in such a system. They have done well.